Steve and Bucky walked out of the cinema. They had both made it a point months ago that going to the movies at least once a month was to remain one of the few routines they should keep from their past lives. Things had changed though. All movies were in color now, often and more than necessary in 3D, and they relied more on action packed, bomb exploding scenes than an elaborated storyline.
"So what did you do yesterday?" Steve asked, hands in his pockets.
"She took me kickboxing," Bucky answered. A smirk played on his lips. "She knocked me out like one or two times. Perhaps even three, not that I would know for sure."
Steve smiled. "It's great," he said. "I'm glad things are going well between you two."
Maria Hill and James had been dated for several weeks, although he couldn't exactly tell for how long considering he had found out about their relationship not so long ago.
"Does she know I know?" he asked.
Bucky's cringe gave his answer away before he said anything. "Well, not exactly."
Steve sighed. "I thought we talked about this. You ought to tell her. If she finds out on her own she'll –"
"-probably knock me out a fourth time. Yeah, I'm aware." Bucky cut him in. "Don't worry, I've been dropping hints, you know, like suggesting to let you in the know."
"And?"
James slightly pursed his lips together. "She's warming up to it…slowly…I guess."
Steve rolled his eyes, not because of Hill's reluctance to being introduced to him as the girlfriend, but because his best friend's mind-blowing incompetence paired up with extreme lack of enthusiasm.
"She said she's waiting for the right moment. Maria is not the type to mix professional and personal life. I mean, she's barely recovering from breaking her number one rule with me."
"It doesn't matter," Steve said as a way to put an end to this conversation. "I guess letting it drag on for a bit longer isn't a problem."
"You're just scared you'll blurt it out yourself." Bucky said. He seemed to process his own words then pointed firmly his forefinger at him. "By the way, don't," he added in a warning tone.
"Are you seriously putting this on me?" Steve exclaimed.
"We all know you're a lousy liar. She's going to crack you open like an egg shell and you're gonna drag me with you."
"That is…absolutely not true," he snorted, a deep frown on his forehead. "I can keep it together."
They both on the sidewalk, Bucky gave him a blasé, stern look that seemed to carry years of past experiences and grudges then he resumed walking.
A few days later, after a jog cut short by unexpected rain, Steve came back home and headed to the kitchen for a morning coffee. The first few sunrays had barely cracked through the sky and the quietness in the apartment suggested James was still asleep. The evening before, after getting a text from Maria, he had dashed out for an improvized late date night which also meant bailing out of their morning jog.
Slightly leaning on the kitchen counter, he opened the newspaper and skimmed the headlines. His reading was interrupted by little, muffled footsteps walking up the corridor. He looked up and unexpectedly came across agent Hill, hair loosely tied into a messy bun, yawning as she entered the room and stretching up, wearing Bucky's favourite baseball team large t-shirt. Wearing nothing other than his favourite baseball team t-shirt.
A heavy silence that seemed to last an eternity (and a half) ensued as they both made eye contact. Maria's groggy expression soon turned into one of sheer horror as she came to the realization that not only the kitchen wasn't unoccupied, but that she had come face to face with the person she least wanted to see in this outfit.
Her arms jerked and grabbed the bottom of the shirt pulling it down as far as cotton could possibly stretch, and repressing the squeal of surprise in the back of her throat while Steve flicked his eyes away and pivoted the upper part of his body to face one of the living-room windows.
Words dangerously lacked them both but soon he found himself fighting the amused smile that threatened to come up to his lips despite the awkwardness of the moment.
"So I was thinking I could make you waffles. This is a Ma' Buchanan recipe and I promise you they're the best p –" Bucky froze as he stepped into the room and was thrown into the awkward act that was playing out in the kitchen.
"Oh. You're here…" Bucky commented quietly, slurring the last word. Maria shifted half of her body so it would be concealed behind his back.
"It's…raining," Steve said, pointing to the window and at the same time putting the blame on the weather.
He and Bucky shared a look that was worth a thousand words. Then James bit his bottom lip, lifted his eyebrows and his eyes swept across the wooden floor.
"Well, I guess it's out of the bag," he said absent-mindedly, seeming to be way more preoccupied about the aftermath then the present moment.
"I –I better go," Hill said sternly, sounding surprisingly more collected and self-assured than anybody would expect. But again, she was trained to keep her cool in far more jeopardous situations.
She dashed out in an instant, leaving the two friends alone in the kitchen. Bucky raised his hands and mimed slow clapping without ever allowing his palms to touch. Steve gawked silently in response.
When they heard the door of his bedroom close, making sounds became permissible again.
"Don't put this on me," Steve whispered sharply. "If you had let me know she was staying over for the night I would have gone elsewhere and remained there all morning."
"Well, it's a known fact you're as regular as a clockwork," Bucky snapped back with an even lower whispering voice. "You were supposed to be back home at 8.15 sharp and it's barely 6.40. I had this under control until you decided to go all spontaneous today. I have to say your timing is on point."
Steve furrowed his brows, a look of discontent showing on his face. "Wait. Are you calling me boring?"
Bucky rolled his eyes. He leaned backward to peek into the corridor.
"Now is not the time for this bickering. I am so in trouble. I told her I got this."
"I didn't know she was staying over from time to time."
"Because she isn't," Bucky grumbled. "Yesterday was the first time. And probably the last."
"Well, at least now she knows. No more secrets."
Bucky stared blankly. "Your optimism is inspiring," he said ironically. "But not sure it will help me make it through tomorrow. Maria is going to kill me."
Steve paused, tapping his fingers on the counter. He folded his arms across his chest and sighed.
"Just put it on me. Tell her I'm the one who went off schedule."
"You think this wasn't my plan already?"
Steve rolled his eyes. Of course, it had been his plan the second he had stepped into the room.
"But it's not going to be enough. I still got a red target on my forehead."
"Fine. Let her kill you. I'll see you tonight," he shrugged.
The bedroom door opened and their lips sealed tight. Maria reluctantly made her way into the room as there was tragically no way out of the apartment other than the one through the kitchen. She was wearing blue jeans and a dark leather jacket.
"Maria," Steve called. "Would you like to stay for breakfast?"
He smiled lightly with a friendly and welcoming look.
"Thank you but I have a few things to do before heading to work."
Steve nodded quietly. "I guess I'll see you there, then."
These simple words made her wince at the realization this was ought to happen indeed. Eventually.
"Of course," she nodded back, quickly glancing in his direction then back at the exit door.
"Let me accompany you," Bucky spoke.
"No."
Short. Flat. Trenchant. This one word said more than if she had given a Shakespearian monologue.
And few seconds later, she was out of the apartment, closing the door behind her.
Steve went to pour himself his morning coffee and walked up to his best friend with a smirk plastered on his face.
"I guess this wasn't what we all had in mind when she said right moment."
Bucky supressed the urge to curse and stomped to his room.
It had been a week since Steve had given the hairpin for fingerprints search and yet he still hadn't received any results. Impatience took over which resulted to a surprise visit to S.H.I.E.L.D. lab. He walked straight to the agent he had given the precious exhibit to.
"Captain Rogers." Jason smiled, although uneasy as if he was taken aback by this unexpected visit.
"Do you have the results of the fingerprints scan I asked for?"
"I'm afraid not, Captain." He answered uneasily.
Steve frowned. S.H.I.E.L.D wasn't known for being slow or sloppy.
"Did you run the tests?"
"I have," Jason began then trailed off. "But I can't have a look into the file."
"Why not?"
"Tests have been suspended and access to the file has been disallowed. To everyone." Jason added. Noz Steve was the one taken aback. He looked bashful and sorry to have been put in this embarrassing position.
"By who?" Steve asked.
"Director Fury." And after he said the name, he gave him a pinched smile and walked away to resume work.
Less than fifteen minutes later, Steve was stepping out of the elevator and making his way to Fury's office. He knocked briefly, opened the door and walked into the room before he had been given permission to enter (he was having one of his dramatic entrances as Bucky liked to call them).
He found Fury sitting behind his desk, skimming through what was very likely to be a confidential file judging from his swift motion at closing it when he saw the door open.
"You suspended lab tests that I asked to be run. Why?" he went straight for it with a determined look.
"Good afternoon to you too, Captain Rogers." Fury's voice was remarkably calm.
Steve prepped his fists on the desk and leaned forward.
"Why can't I access the file of an investigation I am running?"
Fury got up and stood tall and square. "Because it is a seventy-year-old investigation that is no longer relevant," he said simply. "You can't possibly expect me to let my agents spend time and energy on a cold case."
His voice was, albeit collected, daring and cold.
"When I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. you told me it granted me access to all the intel I wanted and would need."
"To find people you used to know and to have a closure with your past, not to stir it up. And this, Captain," Fury slurred his words carefully, "is a serious case of stirring up."
Steve stood back up straight, staring sternly at a man he knew he could definitely not trust and possibly not look up to.
"Why do you care?" he asked boldly. Fury wasn't the type to care about his men's emotional state for the sake of it. There was always a reason behind it, and often, this reason was linked to what was his personal interest.
"I need agents who have their head in the game, and I need to know that you're 100% invested into your work."
"Except I am not one of your agents," Steve retorted. "I am not one of your puppets whose strings you're pulling."
Fury seemed to finally look offended. Not to be called out a puppeteer but to be called one straight to his face.
"You may not be an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D but you're a soldier and as such you appreciate what it means to follow orders. And Captain, in here, I'm the one giving orders. You better get used to it."
His dark, formidable eye pierced into his.
A knock on the door pulled them both out of their silent row.
"Hold on," Fury said out loud to whoever was waiting behind the door without breaking eye contact with him.
"Access to the file remains suspended as well as any other tests remotely related to that old case," he announced like a sentence, but even more so, like an order.
Steve exhaled hardly, his look probably displaying all the frustration and anger he was feeling at this very moment.
When both acknowledged his silence meant surrender, Fury spoke again. "Come in," he said out loud again and sat down in his chair as the door of his office opened.
Steve stood there a few more seconds, debating whether he should stay and fight back or walk out. He chose the latter for the simple reason he now had no doubt that Fury could be the most formidable opponent anybody could make. Director Fury was the sly type, the one that worked in the dark and had power on his side. He was the type to say one thing and mean the other (or not), pretend to give when he is actually the one taking, make you believe he is giving you the choice when actually you have none, show you one thing to better conceal the one he is hiding.
He realized how right Stark was. His secrets had secrets. And if you wanted the truth, the last thing to do was to go to Fury to get it.
Steve walked out of the office with a silent anger but vivid determination to get what he wanted.